“UNTIL ONE HAS LOVED AN ANIMAL, PART OF THEIR SOUL REMAINS UNAWAKENED”(author unknown)
Just when I thought I had heard every possible reason why people call in to reorder CDs or sheet music that they had previously owned (lost it, loaned it to a friend who didn’t return it, stepped on it), I picked up the business phone recently and heard this: “I borrowed your latest CD and Songbook, ‘The Book of Mormon Has Come Forth’ from my friend and I need to order replacements quick because my dog ate them!” I could understand about the book, but she assured me the dog had also opened the CD and chewed it up. As I wrote down her order, I silently wondered why one would keep such a dog, but it didn’t take me long to recall several such untoward incidents in the lives of our own pets that were every bit as unforgivable, and yet we forgave them because we just loved them too much to do otherwise. This sister was trying to keep the dog alive until her daughter returned from college; we have tried to keep ours alive until children returned from their missions (not always successfully).
My Childhood Pet History
My first pet recollection is of my brother Jack’s black weiner dog Jo-Jo in Ogden, Utah. One day just as Jack returned from school Jo-Jo was hit by a car and was lying lifeless in the street. Mother was trying to comfort Jack and help him understand that his dog was dead, but Jack knelt down by Jo-Jo and offered a heartfelt prayer, picked him up and took him into the house, saying emphatically to all who had gathered: “He is not dead!” No one felt like challenging his child-like faith. Jo-Jo was soon up and walking and remained with us for a few more years.
When I was eight, our family and two of my uncles’ families moved to farms in Vale, Oregon, to homestead, provide church leadership, raise crops and animals and especially hardy children.
We needed “mousers” out on the farm to keep the mouse population down and had up to 24 outdoor cats at one time, but I never considered them pets, and had one traumatic experience with them that colored my view of cats for life. Mother and I put six newly-weaned kittens in our car and started to drive to my Uncle’s Clarence’s farm some two miles away because he needed more mousers.These cats went absolutely berserk in the car and were scratching, clawing and hissing and it scared me terribly. I screamed for Mother to stop the car and just let them out but she just drove faster determined to get them to my uncle’s house. I was badly scratched and crying and rather traumatized by the time we delivered the cats and have never felt comfortable around cats since that day.
But we had a pretty little white and tan border collie, Ben, on the farm and we all loved him dearly.
My job was to go to the pasture to bring the cows in for milking in the late afternoon and he was good company. I also loved to sit in the haystack with him during good weather months and just talk to him and stroke him. Dogs listen patiently, they never interrupt you, and they give you an encouraging lick on the cheek now and then just to let you know that what you’re saying is important to them. Sadly, Ben’s hind quarters were run over by a tractor just before Christmas andhe could hardly walk. It was heartbreaking. He held on just long enough for Jack to make it home from BYU for Christmas vacation and died in his arms shortly thereafter. That was the first time I knew how painful it could be to lose a pet.
My Pet History after Marriage
For the first ten years of our marriage, while Doug was studying at BYU and Indiana University, we lived in apartments where house pets were not allowed, so we had to improvise with goldfish, hamsters and Preying Mantises to give the kids experiences with some of the creatures of this earth. Stories abound about those hamsters, but I digress. We moved out of married student housing and into a small rental home in Bloomington, Indiana, where pets were allowed.
Our first family dog was a black miniature poodle. We spent a whole Family Night submitting names and finally settling on one: Penelope (“Penny” for short) Everyone was pretty excited about having an indoor pet but I quickly learned that it is a whole different and bigger commitment to have a pet who lives in the house! I don’t think we ever completely trained that dog and in some ways it was a pain to deal with her but she nevertheless was beloved by one and all, including two foster children we had added to our own four.
A year later, Penny was about to deliver puppies and, because it was happening in the middle of the night, we awakened all six children so they would not miss the blessed event. They all sat in silent awe as three beautiful black puppies made their entrance into the world. Naming three puppies was quite the process, but as we got to know the personalities of the pups we settled on Patrick, Patience and Pestilence (2 males, one female) and they pretty much ruled our lives for a few months. Then we received news that my father was dying in Utah and we made the decision to pack up and move home immediately. Friends helped us accomplish the move in two days.
Again we knew we were moving to an apartment in Logan, Utah where no house pets were allowed so we would have to leave our pets behind. We drove to Chicago where my mother-in-law knew of an especially nice dog shelter, and left our pets in the care of a very kind lady there, and headed out for our new life back in Utah. The children were surprisingly calm about giving up their pets. I had a harder time.
Two years (and many hamster experiences) later, we were able to purchase our first home and that of course was followed by our yearning for another house pet. As I recall we bought our little toy poodle for Steve’s twelfth birthday, but of course Priscilla (“Prissy” for short) felt like she belonged to all the family. I kept my distance from her a bit knowing how it can hurt to lose pets, but she kept sleeping next to my leg or my back, curling up on my lap, and following me everywhere—what was I going to do, I couldn’t resist. In my youth I had laughed at people who babied their tiny dogs, even speaking baby talk to them. Now I found myself doing it! (Mostly when we were alone though.)
When we moved to Provo she came along with us, of course. We decided to have her bred by a thoroughbred toy poodle whose name I have never forgotten: Velvet Valentino. Such a grand name for such a teeny tiny dog! When her puppy was born, I was feeling every contraction with her. The puppy was not breathing at first so we called the vet who talked us through a massage procedure which finally brought the pup to life.We named her Nicole (“Nicky” for short) and enjoyed every minute of her short life. John liked to race her down the street on his bike and unfortunately one day she turned into our driveway too soon, crossed in front of his bike and he could not avoid hitting her. John was devastated. We buried her in a pretty alcove in our yard.
A Traumatic Event
One week before Christmas when Prissy was about four, I took her to the pet store to have her groomed. They were very busy but said they could get to her by the end of the day. When I returned at 5 p.m. to pick her up, I watched as they finished with her and to my horror she suddenly keeled over unconscious. The groomer tried desperately to revive her, putting water in her mouth and throat because she was sure she was dehydrated. Nothing happened.
I was sure she had died and I cried thinking what a dismal Christmas this would be for our family. But the wonderful pet store owner, Mrs. Halestone, took Prissy’s snout in her hand, then put her mouth right over Prissy’s and began CPR breathing, filling her lungs with oxygen. Still no response. But finally Prissy gave a little cough and choking sound and started breathing again. She couldn’t move but she had revived! Eventually I carried her to the car, set her on a pillow and drove home. She was completely limp and needed plenty of TLC for a couple of weeks but over time she recovered somewhat. She couldn’t jump onto the furniture any more, and her bark sounded more like a quack, but she could play, and seemed content and at least we still had her. I was surprised how much I cared that she lived.
Prissy lived eight more years and brought so much happiness to our family. John (12) had her nicely groomed one day and took her out to the mall and had a picture/poster made of him and her. Years later she became very ill and finally was incapacitated and was suffering discomfort that we could not bear to see. It was a Saturday and only Steve, John and I were home when we made the decision to have her put to sleep. I asked the boys to take her to the vet and while they were gone I cried like I had never before cried, to lose the companionship of this tiny little doggie.
It was the day of President Kimball’s funeral and I realized I hadn’t cried that hard for him! Who can explain the depth of the love we feel for our pets. . . We wrapped Prissy in a pretty, soft towel, set her in a little box, and buried her under a pretty bush in our back yard.No more dogs for me, I resolved, it hurts too much.
Never Say Never
We went seventeen years without a house dog. In some ways life was less complicated, but in other ways it seemed like something was missing. During this time our son John began working full-time in an office in our home, managing our music business.Just before we left to serve a full-time mission in Santiago Chile in 2002 he decided to get a little purebred West Highland Terrier, Ikea, who became a fixture at our house since John worked there! This little white ball of fluff was easy to love and when we returned from our mission we were once again hooked on a house pet because she was here eight hours a day! Four years later John decided she needed a playmate and got a second Westie, Cinco, who also came to work with him every day. We fell hook, line and sinker again.
These doggies watch TV with John, and when a dog or cat appears on the screen they bark and then grab shoes or any other nearby object and shake them violently. They even memorize the music or other sounds from commercials with dogs in them and will come running from another room the moment they hear one of the commercials begin. Only real dogs elicit this response as they seem to differentiate them from animation. John tries to hit the mute button quickly but it’s usually too late. When Ikea wants his attention she goes to the bedroom door and flips the spring-action doorstop. I don’t even want to say how much she melts our hearts when she sits back on her hind legs and holds her front paws up while begging for food. We just love Cinco for his off-the-wall free spirit!
We’ve helped to see them through knee surgery, stomach pumpings for finding and eating too much chocolate (a no-no for dogs), and a horrendous night of inducing them to vomit a pile of pork ribs they had swallowed, along with many minor illnesses. On the other hand we have had countless hours of fun with them too. When John goes on trips they wait hopefully by the door for a few hours but finally switch their allegiance to us. While he is gone, all of our TV watching is done with them on our laps; and yes, they even sleep between us in our king-sized bed. They are our granddogs. When John returns they are overjoyed—he lies on the floor and they lick him to pieces before he takes them home. We’re overjoyed too when John comes home! His dogs are kind of like grandkids—we can enjoy all the fun things about them without having the whole responsibility of their care. John recently informed me that Ikea is about my age (73) in dog years so we may yet have to bury one more beloved pet. Or, maybe she’ll still be here licking at my headstone. J
Other Family Pets We Love
After years of having bunny rabbits and goats for their children to enjoy, our son Robb’s familysettled on a Shih Tzu/Poodle mix for their family pet and our whole extended family fell in love with this silky-haired little mop, with an endearing under-bite, at first sight. We grandmas both suggested her name be Taffy because of her caramel coat and it stuck.
Taffy loves everyone, always greets the family at the door with barks and licks, and senses when someone is sad or sick and will come to cuddle. (It’s amazing how comforting that can be.) When someone is sitting, she’ll approach and lie on her back hoping they will scratch her tummy with their foot . . . but she always lies down just out of reach. This little doggie thinks she’s tough and will bark at cats and dogs but could never handle any of them! She is obedient and will stop when called off a dead run after a cat. She recognizes the word “amen” after family prayers. She regularly dislodges all the throw rugs on the hardwood kitchen floor after her bath when she runs around like a mad dog. She has eaten a whole Symphony bar in one sitting.She has one vice in common with Ikea and Cinco: she won’t stop barking when the doorbell rings. Taffy brings so much love to the family.
Our son Steve’s family chose Basenji’s for their pets. First came Cairo, who met an early demise, and he was followed by Kenya and Cole who have now been long time residents of their home, supplying warmth and love and an inordinate amount of mischief. They chose Basenjis because they have short hair, their ears point upward and they don’t bark! They really don’t. I think that is a very admirable quality in a dog. Did I mention that I find this quality admirable?
Kenya and Cole love to lie across someone’s lap during scripture study, making that person feel like the chosen one because when it’s time for prayers the one with the dog across his lap doesn’t have to get up and kneel. Steve says they’re very intelligent dogs and learn quickly but then they don’t want to do that thing any more—they feel no need to please. My most interesting experience with these dogs happened years ago when I was babysitting and sleeping in Steve and Johanne’s bed while they were out of town. In the middle of the night both dogs piled in bed with me and took up waaay too much space. Still, it was winter and they provided lots of warmth.
One day while the family was at church Cole figured out how to open the refrigerator door, and havoc ensued. He (they) took a raw roast out of the fridge and took it upstairs to the boys’ bedroom to devour it, leaving all kind of blood and guts strewn over everything. Another time they ate a brick of cheese. The family started duct-taping the fridge door closed when they went to church. The dogs learned how to peel the duct tape off and raided the fridge again. One time they fought over Johanne’s newly-baked blueberry pie they found in there, making a terrible mess but managingto eat the whole thing. Two separate swatches of duct tape seem to have solved the problem for now. Sensing Steve’s exasperation now and then I asked, “So why did you get these dogs?”He said, “When you have a wife and four kids begging for a dog, you have to give in at some point.”They, like so many others I know are trying to hold onto these dogs for one more year untiltheir missionary gets home. After that . . . who knows.
Our daughter Lynne’s family has had multiple animal pets through the years: Four sheep (Tanner, Tiny, Tyler and Travis), one llama (Skid), 1 golden retriever (Reagan), and two cats (Felix and Asia). Lynne has commented often about how much their children have learned from caring for and loving these pets, and how their understanding of death has increased as they cared for their pets when they were dying and sought comfort from the Spirit.
My natural leanings are toward the canine pets, but in fairness I need to feature their feline pet, Felix, who was dearly loved by this family for years. Their daughters found tremendous comfort in holding and stroking Felix, or snuggling with him after a hard day at school. Even their teenaged son who was definitely a dog-guy, admitted that Felix had “softened” him and made him more tender-hearted in general. Felix slept at the foot of their beds with his head against their feet. He was somewhat accident prone, suffering various injuries to his paws, but he received plenty of TLC especially from their two daughters.
One night Felix awakened the family with shrieks of pain and they realized that his hind quarters were paralyzed. They took him to an emergency animal hospital only to be told that he had a condition not uncommon to cats and there was no hope for recovery. Sadly they made the only humane decision, to put Felix to sleep. He is buried in their back yard. I asked my granddaughter Becca how she felt about losing Felix that night and her sweet reply was, “It was easier because of the atonement.”
Sometime later the family got a pretty multi-shaded cat which they named Asia but six months later, this beloved pet was let out at 1 a.m. for her usual nocturnal wanderings and was never seen again. More pet sorrow, which begs the question of whether or not we will enjoy the association of ourpets in the next life.
An LDS Perspective
One writer presenting an LDS perspective says this: “We do believe in an afterlife for animals. Animals will be resurrected and receive salvation automatically through the atonement of Christ.” (1) She then offers a few bits of doctrine on the subject:
They [animals] will be resurrected and placed in their appropriate places in
Heaven. As the fall of Adam affected animals (see Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi,
2:22) so also through the atonement will the animals be heirs of salvation in
their respective spheres. (2)
We also learn from this revelation and the word of the Lord in other revelation
that in the eternities the animals and all living creatures shall be given knowledge
and enjoy happiness, each in its own sphere. . . . These creatures will not then be
the dumb creatures that we suppose them to be while in this mortal life. (3)
The author then draws the following personal conclusion: “I do not recall any church doctrine regarding the reunion of pets and owners in the hereafter but it is my personal opinion that there will be a reunion andthat the relationship between owner and pet will be made more perfect dueto pure communication between man and animal.” (4)
I share her opinion—I sincerely hope she is right. If you have loved a pet you’ll understand my feelings perfectly. If you have not, please remember this: “Until one has loved an animal, part of their soul remains unawakened.” (author unknown)
Janice Kapp Perry: composer, author, lecturer
(1) Melanie Cooper, “Pet Loss: An LDS Perspective,” about.com Latter-day Saints,
(2) “Sacred Truths of the Doctrine and Covenants,” Vol. II, p, 38.
(3) Ibid, p. 69.
(4) Cooper, Ibid.
.
“UNTIL ONE HAS LOVED AN ANIMAL, PART OF THEIR SOUL REMAINS UNAWAKENED”(author unknown)
Just when I thought I had heard every possible reason why people call in to reorder CDs or sheet music that they had previously owned (lost it, loaned it to a friend who didn’t return it, stepped on it), I picked up the business phone recently and heard this: “I borrowed your latest CD and Songbook, ‘The Book of Mormon Has Come Forth’ from my friend and I need to order replacements quick because my dog ate them!” I could understand about the book, but she assured me the dog had also opened the CD and chewed it up. As I wrote down her order, I silently wondered why one would keep such a dog, but it didn’t take me long to recall several such untoward incidents in the lives of our own pets that were every bit as unforgivable, and yet we forgave them because we just loved them too much to do otherwise. This sister was trying to keep the dog alive until her daughter returned from college; we have tried to keep ours alive until children returned from their missions (not always successfully).
My Childhood Pet History
My first pet recollection is of my brother Jack’s black weiner dog Jo-Jo in Ogden, Utah. One day just as Jack returned from school Jo-Jo was hit by a car and was lying lifeless in the street. Mother was trying to comfort Jack and help him understand that his dog was dead, but Jack knelt down by Jo-Jo and offered a heartfelt prayer, picked him up and took him into the house, saying emphatically to all who had gathered: “He is not dead!” No one felt like challenging his child-like faith. Jo-Jo was soon up and walking and remained with us for a few more years.
When I was eight, our family and two of my uncles’ families moved to farms in Vale, Oregon, to homestead, provide church leadership, raise crops and animals and especially hardy children.
We needed “mousers” out on the farm to keep the mouse population down and had up to 24 outdoor cats at one time, but I never considered them pets, and had one traumatic experience with them that colored my view of cats for life. Mother and I put six newly-weaned kittens in our car and started to drive to my Uncle’s Clarence’s farm some two miles away because he needed more mousers.These cats went absolutely berserk in the car and were scratching, clawing and hissing and it scared me terribly. I screamed for Mother to stop the car and just let them out but she just drove faster determined to get them to my uncle’s house. I was badly scratched and crying and rather traumatized by the time we delivered the cats and have never felt comfortable around cats since that day.
But we had a pretty little white and tan border collie, Ben, on the farm and we all loved him dearly.
My job was to go to the pasture to bring the cows in for milking in the late afternoon and he was good company. I also loved to sit in the haystack with him during good weather months and just talk to him and stroke him. Dogs listen patiently, they never interrupt you, and they give you an encouraging lick on the cheek now and then just to let you know that what you’re saying is important to them. Sadly, Ben’s hind quarters were run over by a tractor just before Christmas andhe could hardly walk. It was heartbreaking. He held on just long enough for Jack to make it home from BYU for Christmas vacation and died in his arms shortly thereafter. That was the first time I knew how painful it could be to lose a pet.
My Pet History after Marriage
For the first ten years of our marriage, while Doug was studying at BYU and Indiana University, we lived in apartments where house pets were not allowed, so we had to improvise with goldfish, hamsters and Preying Mantises to give the kids experiences with some of the creatures of this earth. Stories abound about those hamsters, but I digress. We moved out of married student housing and into a small rental home in Bloomington, Indiana, where pets were allowed.
Our first family dog was a black miniature poodle. We spent a whole Family Night submitting names and finally settling on one: Penelope (“Penny” for short) Everyone was pretty excited about having an indoor pet but I quickly learned that it is a whole different and bigger commitment to have a pet who lives in the house! I don’t think we ever completely trained that dog and in some ways it was a pain to deal with her but she nevertheless was beloved by one and all, including two foster children we had added to our own four.
A year later, Penny was about to deliver puppies and, because it was happening in the middle of the night, we awakened all six children so they would not miss the blessed event. They all sat in silent awe as three beautiful black puppies made their entrance into the world. Naming three puppies was quite the process, but as we got to know the personalities of the pups we settled on Patrick, Patience and Pestilence (2 males, one female) and they pretty much ruled our lives for a few months. Then we received news that my father was dying in Utah and we made the decision to pack up and move home immediately. Friends helped us accomplish the move in two days.
Again we knew we were moving to an apartment in Logan, Utah where no house pets were allowed so we would have to leave our pets behind. We drove to Chicago where my mother-in-law knew of an especially nice dog shelter, and left our pets in the care of a very kind lady there, and headed out for our new life back in Utah. The children were surprisingly calm about giving up their pets. I had a harder time.
Two years (and many hamster experiences) later, we were able to purchase our first home and that of course was followed by our yearning for another house pet. As I recall we bought our little toy poodle for Steve’s twelfth birthday, but of course Priscilla (“Prissy” for short) felt like she belonged to all the family. I kept my distance from her a bit knowing how it can hurt to lose pets, but she kept sleeping next to my leg or my back, curling up on my lap, and following me everywhere—what was I going to do, I couldn’t resist. In my youth I had laughed at people who babied their tiny dogs, even speaking baby talk to them. Now I found myself doing it! (Mostly when we were alone though.)
When we moved to Provo she came along with us, of course. We decided to have her bred by a thoroughbred toy poodle whose name I have never forgotten: Velvet Valentino. Such a grand name for such a teeny tiny dog! When her puppy was born, I was feeling every contraction with her. The puppy was not breathing at first so we called the vet who talked us through a massage procedure which finally brought the pup to life.We named her Nicole (“Nicky” for short) and enjoyed every minute of her short life. John liked to race her down the street on his bike and unfortunately one day she turned into our driveway too soon, crossed in front of his bike and he could not avoid hitting her. John was devastated. We buried her in a pretty alcove in our yard.
A Traumatic Event
One week before Christmas when Prissy was about four, I took her to the pet store to have her groomed. They were very busy but said they could get to her by the end of the day. When I returned at 5 p.m. to pick her up, I watched as they finished with her and to my horror she suddenly keeled over unconscious. The groomer tried desperately to revive her, putting water in her mouth and throat because she was sure she was dehydrated. Nothing happened.
I was sure she had died and I cried thinking what a dismal Christmas this would be for our family. But the wonderful pet store owner, Mrs. Halestone, took Prissy’s snout in her hand, then put her mouth right over Prissy’s and began CPR breathing, filling her lungs with oxygen. Still no response. But finally Prissy gave a little cough and choking sound and started breathing again. She couldn’t move but she had revived! Eventually I carried her to the car, set her on a pillow and drove home. She was completely limp and needed plenty of TLC for a couple of weeks but over time she recovered somewhat. She couldn’t jump onto the furniture any more, and her bark sounded more like a quack, but she could play, and seemed content and at least we still had her. I was surprised how much I cared that she lived.
Prissy lived eight more years and brought so much happiness to our family. John (12) had her nicely groomed one day and took her out to the mall and had a picture/poster made of him and her. Years later she became very ill and finally was incapacitated and was suffering discomfort that we could not bear to see. It was a Saturday and only Steve, John and I were home when we made the decision to have her put to sleep. I asked the boys to take her to the vet and while they were gone I cried like I had never before cried, to lose the companionship of this tiny little doggie.
It was the day of President Kimball’s funeral and I realized I hadn’t cried that hard for him! Who can explain the depth of the love we feel for our pets. . . We wrapped Prissy in a pretty, soft towel, set her in a little box, and buried her under a pretty bush in our back yard.No more dogs for me, I resolved, it hurts too much.
Never Say Never
We went seventeen years without a house dog. In some ways life was less complicated, but in other ways it seemed like something was missing. During this time our son John began working full-time in an office in our home, managing our music business.Just before we left to serve a full-time mission in Santiago Chile in 2002 he decided to get a little purebred West Highland Terrier, Ikea, who became a fixture at our house since John worked there! This little white ball of fluff was easy to love and when we returned from our mission we were once again hooked on a house pet because she was here eight hours a day! Four years later John decided she needed a playmate and got a second Westie, Cinco, who also came to work with him every day. We fell hook, line and sinker again.
These doggies watch TV with John, and when a dog or cat appears on the screen they bark and then grab shoes or any other nearby object and shake them violently. They even memorize the music or other sounds from commercials with dogs in them and will come running from another room the moment they hear one of the commercials begin. Only real dogs elicit this response as they seem to differentiate them from animation. John tries to hit the mute button quickly but it’s usually too late. When Ikea wants his attention she goes to the bedroom door and flips the spring-action doorstop. I don’t even want to say how much she melts our hearts when she sits back on her hind legs and holds her front paws up while begging for food. We just love Cinco for his off-the-wall free spirit!
We’ve helped to see them through knee surgery, stomach pumpings for finding and eating too much chocolate (a no-no for dogs), and a horrendous night of inducing them to vomit a pile of pork ribs they had swallowed, along with many minor illnesses. On the other hand we have had countless hours of fun with them too. When John goes on trips they wait hopefully by the door for a few hours but finally switch their allegiance to us. While he is gone, all of our TV watching is done with them on our laps; and yes, they even sleep between us in our king-sized bed. They are our granddogs. When John returns they are overjoyed—he lies on the floor and they lick him to pieces before he takes them home. We’re overjoyed too when John comes home! His dogs are kind of like grandkids—we can enjoy all the fun things about them without having the whole responsibility of their care. John recently informed me that Ikea is about my age (73) in dog years so we may yet have to bury one more beloved pet. Or, maybe she’ll still be here licking at my headstone. J
Other Family Pets We Love
After years of having bunny rabbits and goats for their children to enjoy, our son Robb’s familysettled on a Shih Tzu/Poodle mix for their family pet and our whole extended family fell in love with this silky-haired little mop, with an endearing under-bite, at first sight. We grandmas both suggested her name be Taffy because of her caramel coat and it stuck.
Taffy loves everyone, always greets the family at the door with barks and licks, and senses when someone is sad or sick and will come to cuddle. (It’s amazing how comforting that can be.) When someone is sitting, she’ll approach and lie on her back hoping they will scratch her tummy with their foot . . . but she always lies down just out of reach. This little doggie thinks she’s tough and will bark at cats and dogs but could never handle any of them! She is obedient and will stop when called off a dead run after a cat. She recognizes the word “amen” after family prayers. She regularly dislodges all the throw rugs on the hardwood kitchen floor after her bath when she runs around like a mad dog. She has eaten a whole Symphony bar in one sitting.She has one vice in common with Ikea and Cinco: she won’t stop barking when the doorbell rings. Taffy brings so much love to the family.
Our son Steve’s family chose Basenji’s for their pets. First came Cairo, who met an early demise, and he was followed by Kenya and Cole who have now been long time residents of their home, supplying warmth and love and an inordinate amount of mischief. They chose Basenjis because they have short hair, their ears point upward and they don’t bark! They really don’t. I think that is a very admirable quality in a dog. Did I mention that I find this quality admirable?
Kenya and Cole love to lie across someone’s lap during scripture study, making that person feel like the chosen one because when it’s time for prayers the one with the dog across his lap doesn’t have to get up and kneel. Steve says they’re very intelligent dogs and learn quickly but then they don’t want to do that thing any more—they feel no need to please. My most interesting experience with these dogs happened years ago when I was babysitting and sleeping in Steve and Johanne’s bed while they were out of town. In the middle of the night both dogs piled in bed with me and took up waaay too much space. Still, it was winter and they provided lots of warmth.
One day while the family was at church Cole figured out how to open the refrigerator door, and havoc ensued. He (they) took a raw roast out of the fridge and took it upstairs to the boys’ bedroom to devour it, leaving all kind of blood and guts strewn over everything. Another time they ate a brick of cheese. The family started duct-taping the fridge door closed when they went to church. The dogs learned how to peel the duct tape off and raided the fridge again. One time they fought over Johanne’s newly-baked blueberry pie they found in there, making a terrible mess but managingto eat the whole thing. Two separate swatches of duct tape seem to have solved the problem for now. Sensing Steve’s exasperation now and then I asked, “So why did you get these dogs?”He said, “When you have a wife and four kids begging for a dog, you have to give in at some point.”They, like so many others I know are trying to hold onto these dogs for one more year untiltheir missionary gets home. After that . . . who knows.
Our daughter Lynne’s family has had multiple animal pets through the years: Four sheep (Tanner, Tiny, Tyler and Travis), one llama (Skid), 1 golden retriever (Reagan), and two cats (Felix and Asia). Lynne has commented often about how much their children have learned from caring for and loving these pets, and how their understanding of death has increased as they cared for their pets when they were dying and sought comfort from the Spirit.
My natural leanings are toward the canine pets, but in fairness I need to feature their feline pet, Felix, who was dearly loved by this family for years. Their daughters found tremendous comfort in holding and stroking Felix, or snuggling with him after a hard day at school. Even their teenaged son who was definitely a dog-guy, admitted that Felix had “softened” him and made him more tender-hearted in general. Felix slept at the foot of their beds with his head against their feet. He was somewhat accident prone, suffering various injuries to his paws, but he received plenty of TLC especially from their two daughters.
One night Felix awakened the family with shrieks of pain and they realized that his hind quarters were paralyzed. They took him to an emergency animal hospital only to be told that he had a condition not uncommon to cats and there was no hope for recovery. Sadly they made the only humane decision, to put Felix to sleep. He is buried in their back yard. I asked my granddaughter Becca how she felt about losing Felix that night and her sweet reply was, “It was easier because of the atonement.”
Sometime later the family got a pretty multi-shaded cat which they named Asia but six months later, this beloved pet was let out at 1 a.m. for her usual nocturnal wanderings and was never seen again. More pet sorrow, which begs the question of whether or not we will enjoy the association of ourpets in the next life.
An LDS Perspective
One writer presenting an LDS perspective says this: “We do believe in an afterlife for animals. Animals will be resurrected and receive salvation automatically through the atonement of Christ.” (1) She then offers a few bits of doctrine on the subject:
They [animals] will be resurrected and placed in their appropriate places in
Heaven. As the fall of Adam affected animals (see Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi,
2:22) so also through the atonement will the animals be heirs of salvation in
their respective spheres. (2)
We also learn from this revelation and the word of the Lord in other revelation
that in the eternities the animals and all living creatures shall be given knowledge
and enjoy happiness, each in its own sphere. . . . These creatures will not then be
the dumb creatures that we suppose them to be while in this mortal life. (3)
The author then draws the following personal conclusion: “I do not recall any church doctrine regarding the reunion of pets and owners in the hereafter but it is my personal opinion that there will be a reunion andthat the relationship between owner and pet will be made more perfect dueto pure communication between man and animal.” (4)
I share her opinion—I sincerely hope she is right. If you have loved a pet you’ll understand my feelings perfectly. If you have not, please remember this: “Until one has loved an animal, part of their soul remains unawakened.” (author unknown)
Janice Kapp Perry: composer, author, lecturer
(1) Melanie Cooper, “Pet Loss: An LDS Perspective,” about.com Latter-day Saints,
(2) “Sacred Truths of the Doctrine and Covenants,” Vol. II, p, 38.
(3) Ibid, p. 69.
(4) Cooper, Ibid.
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“UNTIL ONE HAS LOVED AN ANIMAL, PART OF THEIR SOUL REMAINS UNAWAKENED”(author unknown)
Just when I thought I had heard every possible reason why people call in to reorder CDs or sheet music that they had previously owned (lost it, loaned it to a friend who didn’t return it, stepped on it), I picked up the business phone recently and heard this: “I borrowed your latest CD and Songbook, ‘The Book of Mormon Has Come Forth’ from my friend and I need to order replacements quick because my dog ate them!” I could understand about the book, but she assured me the dog had also opened the CD and chewed it up. As I wrote down her order, I silently wondered why one would keep such a dog, but it didn’t take me long to recall several such untoward incidents in the lives of our own pets that were every bit as unforgivable, and yet we forgave them because we just loved them too much to do otherwise. This sister was trying to keep the dog alive until her daughter returned from college; we have tried to keep ours alive until children returned from their missions (not always successfully).
My Childhood Pet History
My first pet recollection is of my brother Jack’s black weiner dog Jo-Jo in Ogden, Utah. One day just as Jack returned from school Jo-Jo was hit by a car and was lying lifeless in the street. Mother was trying to comfort Jack and help him understand that his dog was dead, but Jack knelt down by Jo-Jo and offered a heartfelt prayer, picked him up and took him into the house, saying emphatically to all who had gathered: “He is not dead!” No one felt like challenging his child-like faith. Jo-Jo was soon up and walking and remained with us for a few more years.
When I was eight, our family and two of my uncles’ families moved to farms in Vale, Oregon, to homestead, provide church leadership, raise crops and animals and especially hardy children.
We needed “mousers” out on the farm to keep the mouse population down and had up to 24 outdoor cats at one time, but I never considered them pets, and had one traumatic experience with them that colored my view of cats for life. Mother and I put six newly-weaned kittens in our car and started to drive to my Uncle’s Clarence’s farm some two miles away because he needed more mousers.These cats went absolutely berserk in the car and were scratching, clawing and hissing and it scared me terribly. I screamed for Mother to stop the car and just let them out but she just drove faster determined to get them to my uncle’s house. I was badly scratched and crying and rather traumatized by the time we delivered the cats and have never felt comfortable around cats since that day.
But we had a pretty little white and tan border collie, Ben, on the farm and we all loved him dearly.
My job was to go to the pasture to bring the cows in for milking in the late afternoon and he was good company. I also loved to sit in the haystack with him during good weather months and just talk to him and stroke him. Dogs listen patiently, they never interrupt you, and they give you an encouraging lick on the cheek now and then just to let you know that what you’re saying is important to them. Sadly, Ben’s hind quarters were run over by a tractor just before Christmas andhe could hardly walk. It was heartbreaking. He held on just long enough for Jack to make it home from BYU for Christmas vacation and died in his arms shortly thereafter. That was the first time I knew how painful it could be to lose a pet.
My Pet History after Marriage
For the first ten years of our marriage, while Doug was studying at BYU and Indiana University, we lived in apartments where house pets were not allowed, so we had to improvise with goldfish, hamsters and Preying Mantises to give the kids experiences with some of the creatures of this earth. Stories abound about those hamsters, but I digress. We moved out of married student housing and into a small rental home in Bloomington, Indiana, where pets were allowed.
Our first family dog was a black miniature poodle. We spent a whole Family Night submitting names and finally settling on one: Penelope (“Penny” for short) Everyone was pretty excited about having an indoor pet but I quickly learned that it is a whole different and bigger commitment to have a pet who lives in the house! I don’t think we ever completely trained that dog and in some ways it was a pain to deal with her but she nevertheless was beloved by one and all, including two foster children we had added to our own four.
A year later, Penny was about to deliver puppies and, because it was happening in the middle of the night, we awakened all six children so they would not miss the blessed event. They all sat in silent awe as three beautiful black puppies made their entrance into the world. Naming three puppies was quite the process, but as we got to know the personalities of the pups we settled on Patrick, Patience and Pestilence (2 males, one female) and they pretty much ruled our lives for a few months. Then we received news that my father was dying in Utah and we made the decision to pack up and move home immediately. Friends helped us accomplish the move in two days.
Again we knew we were moving to an apartment in Logan, Utah where no house pets were allowed so we would have to leave our pets behind. We drove to Chicago where my mother-in-law knew of an especially nice dog shelter, and left our pets in the care of a very kind lady there, and headed out for our new life back in Utah. The children were surprisingly calm about giving up their pets. I had a harder time.
Two years (and many hamster experiences) later, we were able to purchase our first home and that of course was followed by our yearning for another house pet. As I recall we bought our little toy poodle for Steve’s twelfth birthday, but of course Priscilla (“Prissy” for short) felt like she belonged to all the family. I kept my distance from her a bit knowing how it can hurt to lose pets, but she kept sleeping next to my leg or my back, curling up on my lap, and following me everywhere—what was I going to do, I couldn’t resist. In my youth I had laughed at people who babied their tiny dogs, even speaking baby talk to them. Now I found myself doing it! (Mostly when we were alone though.)
When we moved to Provo she came along with us, of course. We decided to have her bred by a thoroughbred toy poodle whose name I have never forgotten: Velvet Valentino. Such a grand name for such a teeny tiny dog! When her puppy was born, I was feeling every contraction with her. The puppy was not breathing at first so we called the vet who talked us through a massage procedure which finally brought the pup to life.
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